


Smart Old Birds and Handsome Blokes

by Mikey (mikes_grrl)



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: F/M, Life on Mars Anonymous Pornfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikes_grrl/pseuds/Mikey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phyllis needs some strong shoulders to rub against.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smart Old Birds and Handsome Blokes

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted in a shorter version m the fiandyfic's [Anonymous Porn Fest](http://fiandyfic.livejournal.com/26535.html) ("Gene/Phyllis – Het comfort") and since we have been given permission to repost the stories we wrote for that, I am.

Phyllis and George were divorced nearly fifteen years ago and the rancor of that had drifted over time to a grudging friendship, sharpened by experience and lack of trust. Now George was dead, taken down by the cancer, and Phyllis actually started crying at the front desk when her daughter called her with the news. It hurt, even though she said it did not, because it meant that a whole part of her life was dead too – she was a grandmother and living alone and not that many years from retirement and she was just, simply, old.

No one said much, but some of the plonks said they would drop by tomorrow evening, after the funeral. She brushed them off, not wanting anyone's pity, certainly not the girls she looked after.

Gene drove her home. She was surprised when Gene offered, not that he offered. He barked that he was taking her home so everyone bugger off. Phyllis rolled her eyes at the boy (always, always a boy, no matter the decade) and let him chauffer her, because that was first class sympathy from Gene Hunt. They agreed lung cancer was a poor way to shuffle off this mortal coil as they smoked nearly half a pack between them on the drive. She invited him in for tea, expecting him to say no, but he surprised her with a shrug and a slow walk up the pavement to her home. He sat down on her sofa comfortably, at home with her abrupt ways. She knew how she came off to people, mean like a hag, and part of her enjoyed it and part of her hated it. Gene always soothed over both parts because he was one of the few who could out-snarl her. Although that new Tyler kid was trying, she gave him that.

He leaned back on the couch and she tried not to look at him _that way_ because she was an old grandmother now, hardly one to be eying the young men anymore. Not that Gene was quite so young these days, but still, he was always a handsome bloke. They stopped flirting years ago but she remembered his ways and smiled. No one flirted with her anymore but the fat old butcher who had been flirting with her since she was a virgin – quite a long time back. Anyway, she was officially in mourning. She mentioned that, just to say something bitter to break her mood, and Gene took some kind of hint out of that she did not intend and wrapped his arm around her, patting her shoulder awkwardly, saying something silly about 'he lived a good life.' She argued with that, because George was a drunk and a gambler, and Gene cussed her out for being a heartless old bitch and she slapped him. He held his face in surprise and hurt, looking like a nineteen year old rookie again, and she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek in apology, like she did with her own kids when they were…well, like she still did. Gene shifted at the last second and they were kissing.

She lost control of the situation after that. Gene kept kissing and no one had kissed her like that in well over a decade. He tasted like a man was supposed to taste, cigarettes and liquor and salt and she wondered how he _really_ tasted, down there. That thought alone sent her pushing into his arms and he was not arguing which just kept the momentum going on this Very Bad Idea. She felt up his back and down his backside as he pushed her onto the sofa, crawling on top of her, rubbing against her, and she squeezed his arse which did something. He gasped and broke the kiss to start licking her ear and his hips rolled against her and damn, if he was not well hung then she was a disco queen. She moved her hands to the front and started undoing his belt and then his trousers as he moved his kisses down her neck. She pulled out his cock and he was a two-hander, standing at full attention, and she wanted that. She shoved him in the chest to push him back and he broke off, surprised at pretty much everything. She told him that boys don't know shit about fucking and he was a prime example of manly ignorance, because any damn virgin knew you would never get a good angle at it on a cushy sofa like hers. She kicked the coffee table back, shoving the magazines off it, and sat down, pulling up her skirt and taking off her panties. Gene was leaning back again, this time stroking himself, his long, heavy fingers running lightly up and down his shaft, his eyes glazing in arousal as he watched her panties drop from her hand. She impatiently motioned for him to get on his knees and he did – such a good boy – and she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him in.

She groaned as he entered her and he shuddered, cussing about hot pussy and smart old birds and she slapped him. This was unexpected by them both but as his cheek went red from the hit he went wide eyed and shoved into her, crying out. They stopped, and he looked at her, not asking or needing but wondering, and she slapped him again. The third slap landed and he went off like a crazed animal rutting in heat and she held on to his shoulders as he fucked her off the table and onto the floor. He propped himself up on one elbow and dived his free hand down to her pussy and ran his fingers over her nub and that, with his mighty pounding, was enough and she came cursing him and all men and begging for more. His hips started snapping hard and he closed his eyes as he cried out, actually saying her name, and that was nearly enough to get her coming a second time.

They fell apart gasping in shock and pleasure, and just stayed on the floor as they smoked and made small talk. Gene packed himself up and she crawled off the floor, sore in ways she forgot she could be sore in, and Gene patted her on the back. She frowned at him and he stepped backwards, nearly falling over the overturned coffee table. After a moment, he asked her if she might need a ride back from the funeral tomorrow, because he could stop by the cemetery after lunch and pick her up. She smiled and told him he was a good boy, and yes, she really could use the ride.

####


End file.
